


Wake up Call - Afterward 2

by Camfield



Series: Wake up Call [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Universe: G1<br/>Rating: nc17<br/>Characters: Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Soundwave(ish)<br/>Warnings: Sexual acts with dismembered body parts.<br/>Disclaimer: I don’t own anything but my own poor writing and ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake up Call - Afterward 2

 

 

No one knew that Jazz still had the box of spikes that Prowl had so carefully collected.

 

It amused him, almost.  They either assumed that he’d thrown them out, or smelted them or something, or that they were just gone.  Out of sight, out of processor, and Jazz giggled at the thought while he rifled through them.

 

It was funny, that he actually recognized some of these without the mech attached.  Well, it would be funny if he didn’t know that these had once been attached to friends and clients.

 

Okay so it wasn’t as funny as he’d thought it had been.

 

He pulled out Soundwave’s spike and ran gentle hands over it, clawtips just grazing the indentations of the carved glyphs that covered the metal.

 

The metal was cool, even though it should be warm and he moved his hands over it in a distinct motion.  Firm grip at the base, twisting motion up to the tip and fingertips grazing back down to the base.  It was a dance that he’d perfected in his vorns as a Consort, and nothing could erase the movement from his processor. 

 

He felt the charge building and he was certain that if his circuits hadn’t already started arcing electricity he would have sighed.  It took so little to rev him up and there was so little relief for the damage it caused.  Just as before he felt electricity jump from the spike captured inside of him to the ceiling nodes in his valve.  The spike was nearly completely disintegrated, but every so often he swore it moved on its own, as if still connected.  He’d have to unweld his panel soon to clean the rust residue out, not something he was looking forward to.

 

But right now?  That didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered except the charge racing through his neural lines and the voice in his spark.

 

‘Wouldn’t you like to taste it again, Pet?  Your dear Soundwave?  You always started his sessions with a worshiping mouthful spike, so eager to get your hands on those thighs.  So willing to moan as he thrust without abandon into your perfectly shaped mouth.’

 

  1. The heat, the slightly sticky fluid that beaded out of the hole at the end, everything was perfect and Jazz sank to the floor with a moan.



 

He could see them, in his recall.  Himself situated between quaking thighs, hands curled around the other mech’s aft, busy kneading the metalflesh and pulling it closer and closer with each thrust.  His mouth was dripping oral lubricant, spread wide by the metal rod, and the only thing he could do was swallow every few thrusts.

 

Jazz had the spike in his mouth, moving it back and forth in the same furious pace as his memory recall.  Coolant ran down his face and his optics blurred the feed from his processor until all he had was the physical sensations to guide him.

 

A hand was placed on the back of his helm and he hummed around the stiff cord.  Everything changed angles and he braced himself as the thrusts came harder.  He didn’t even know if he was the one moving the spike in and out of his mouth anymore, just that it was warm and lubricated and he could _taste_ the tang of transfluid in a way that he shouldn’t have been able to.

 

‘Can’t even see who you’re sucking off?  Poor Pet, no more tears.  I want you to see.’

 

A hand brushed the tears aside and Jazz found himself staring up at Prowl, not Soundwave.  His mouth still wrapped around the spike and the hands still at the back of his helm keeping him there.

 

He gurgled, struggling to pull himself away. 

 

‘Ah ah Pet.  Can’t have this stopping without a happy ending can we?’

 

With that Prowl thrust forward again, driving spike up to the housing into Jazz’s twisting and snarling mouth.  Not making any sounds other than pleasure even when denta scraped and bit what should have been sensitive metalflesh.  Jazz was yanked in and held tight and he felt, he _tasted,_ the transfluid flow down his intakes.

 

Suddenly the hands were gone.  Jazz spat out the spike and coughed, Energon spattering the floor from where the tip of the spike had nicked his intake enough to bleed.

 

Soundwave’s spike lay bitten and bent on the floor, transfluid, lubricant and Energon lingering in the grooves of the glyphs.

 

Jazz started laughing, a high crazed sound that echoed off the room walls. It grew in intensity until he was rocking in the middle of the floor; arms wrapped around his knees and became a mixture of a wail and a keen that made anyone within hearing range cringe.

 

“Ah hate ya!  Hate ya Prowl!  Why couldn’t yah just’ve talked ta meh!”

 

His keens continued, warbling through the air as they rose and fell in pitch.

 

“Ah loved ya!  AH LOVED YA!  Why’d ya have t’leave meh here!”

 

‘Silly Pet.  I didn’t leave you anywhere.’

 

Incorporeal arms wrapped themselves around Jazz’s frame and he melted.  Helm rubbing over whatever was in reach before falling flat on the floor, the shadowy figure following and covering Jazz in a blanket of black. 

‘Always and forever Pet. Mine.’


End file.
